


Pining Away

by PR Zed (przed)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-02
Updated: 2009-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:18:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/przed/pseuds/PR%20Zed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm not given to pining. Never have been.  If I can't get what I want, or who I want, I move on. Not worth the aggro, is it, mooning after what can't be yours?</p><p>Then I met <i>him</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pining Away

I'm not given to pining. Never have been. If I can't get what I want, or who I want, I move on. Not worth the aggro, is it, mooning after what can't be yours?

Then I met _him_.

Aggravating sod, all long legs and lean muscle. I wanted to shove him against a wall and ravish him the first time I set eyes on him. I didn't though. Cowley might have objected, for a start. The Old Man overlooks a lot from me, but I don't think he'd have ignored me snogging the newest member of CI5 in his office.

And at the time I had no idea how Doyle would have taken it, me pinning him against a wall and having my way with him. Not the sort of thing most fellas take to.

'Course, Doyle isn't like most fellas. I found that out soon enough. Tells the most appalling jokes, dresses like a ragamuffin, and is given to flaunting his arse to all and sundry, including his partner.

Wears the tightest jeans he can find, and no pants on under ‘em, the bastard. And he's always going up stairs in front of me, twitching that arse in my face.

Gave me the most murderous look, the first time I did it: grabbed his arse as we made our way up to the third floor of a block of council flats. I ignored the display of bad temper, flashed him my sunniest smile and passed him on the stairs, brushing close enough to him that I could feel the heat radiating from his arm.

It became a game after that, me feeling him up whenever I could, him acting all bothered about it, like a cat whose fur has been stroked the wrong way. And it was an act, I could tell that right enough. Could see the amusement lurking in the corner of his expression, could see the smile teasing the edge of that lush mouth.

You'd think the game would get old, that the constant repetition would extinguish the fun we both got from it. Instead, it pushed us to further extremes. He wore increasingly tight, threadbare and patched trousers. I goosed him in increasingly dangerous places: in a restaurant, in headquarters, in the Cow's office. Nearly got my head handed to me that last time by Doyle, not that I blame him. Cowley nearly caught us at it, and wouldn't _that_ have gone over well, one of his top team playing silly buggers in his inner sanctum.

Then something changed. We still play the game, but it's not fun any more. Not for me. Not since I realized I _am_ pining for him.

A soft, daft bastard, that's what I am. Languishing from unrequited lust. Or love. Or...I don't know.

One thing I do know: I'm not going to tell him. He'd laugh himself sick, big bad Bodie mooning after him like a schoolgirl.

But if I know what I'm not going to do, I've got no idea what I _am_ going to do. No bloody idea at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Continued in [Two for Joy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/193912)


End file.
